


Windows

by stormysgambit



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Injury, M/M, Soulmates, shoulder injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormysgambit/pseuds/stormysgambit
Summary: Tooru grows up catching glimpses of Hajime's life through windows. Though he has no idea who the boy who continuously appears before him is, he longs to meet him. When they are adults, the fates finally throw them together.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	Windows

Tooru Oikawa grows up alongside Hajime Iwaizumi, but not in the traditional sense. Instead, Tooru sees glimpses of the life of the other boy through what can be thought of windows. The windows aren’t present all the time, they are more like snapshots, allowing Tooru to witness a given moment in time. No, that’s wrong. Snapshots implies that what he sees is static. There is movement within the windows, so perhaps video would be a more accurate term. 

The windows aren’t visible to him all the time, and Tooru is unsure what causes them to appear. It is also unclear whether other people are able to see them, though it doesn’t appear that they are. Or maybe they are, but the windows they see are of someone different. 

It’s possible that the windows have been appearing his entire life, but Tooru’s earliest memory of one is from the time he was about three years old. He is playing on the floor while his sister watches him. His sister is twelve years older than him and though she loves him, there are other things she’d rather be doing with her time than watching a three year old. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru spots something flickering in the air. As he watches, a window appears, revealing a boy much like himself, playing by himself in a room. “Neesan.” When she doesn’t look up from her phone, Tooru repeats himself. “Neesan, there’s a boy over there.” 

Looking up from her phone, his sister rolls her eyes. “This had better be important Tooru.”

Tooru points across the room to the window, where he can see the boy playing with a set of wooden blocks. “There’s a boy over there.”

His sister rolls her eyes again and looks over to where he is pointing. “Tooru, there’s nothing there.” 

“But he’s right there!” Tooru insists, still pointing at the window. “He’s playing with blocks on the floor!” 

“Alright, I get it. I haven’t been paying enough attention to you. Let’s take some of that creativity outside, okay?” Putting her phone away, his sister scoops Tooru up off the floor. As he watches from over her shoulder, the window disappears.  
  
When it snows that winter, amidst the snowflakes falling outside, Tooru can spy a window. In the window, he sees the boy and the boy’s mother dressing him to go out and play. In his excitement, Tooru rushes outside unnoticed by either his sister or mother desperate to see the boy, more excited by his appearance than he is by the snow. 

He falls ill, and as he lays surrounded by blankets, tiny body shivering with fever, another window appears. He calls out to his sister, struggling to disentangle himself from the blankets.

“Neesan, the boy, there he is!” Tooru exclaims in a hoarse voice before he succumbs to a coughing fit. 

Pressing her hand against his forehead, she frowns. “Tooru, you’re burning up. You need to stay in bed, you’re seeing things.” With a sigh, she covers him back up, despite his feeble protests and goes to fetch their mother. Surrounded by the warmth of the blankets and burning with fever, Tooru falls into a deep sleep. Even years later, he remains unsure whether the window was ever really there that day or if it was brought about by delirium. 

They start school at the same time, though the uniform of the boy is not the same as Tooru’s, which makes him sad. He will be unable to run into the boy, at least at school. Unaware of just how vast the world is, it doesn’t yet cross Tooru’s mind that the possibility exists they don’t even live in the same country. 

They go through the stages of youth together, roaming through wide fields, scraping their knees on rocks as they fall trying to catch insects. The boy perhaps more than Tooru, for whenever Tooru sees him he has an array of colored bandages on his arms and legs. They start to lose their teeth around the same time, Tooru catching glimpses of a gap toothed smile similar to his own. When Tooru gets chicken pox, he is delighted to see the boy also stuck home in bed, though he longs to be in the same place, able to ease some of the boy’s misery. They experience a growth spurt around the same time, transitioning from baby fat into arms and legs that seem too long and awkward for their bodies. 

Around the age of six, Tooru discovers a love for volleyball and spends countless hours practicing in his backyard or at the park. He is determined to become a setter and works on perfecting serves and tosses, a difficult feat when he has nobody around to practice with. That is until one day a window appears and he is shocked to see the other boy also playing volleyball, though unlike Tooru, he is practicing spikes. Tooru watches the graceful arc of the boy’s arm as it moves through the air before it slams a ball into the ground. In that moment, Tooru falls in love. 

By the time he enters high school, Tooru has perfected his serve to a lethal level of accuracy. He has developed his tosses by watching the boy play, and can’t help but think to himself that if they were on the same team, they would be unstoppable. “ _I should be the one tossing to you_ ”, Tooru thinks whenever he sees him. 

It would be wrong to say that by this point Tooru hasn’t started paying attention to the boy. As in _truly_ paying attention to him. His features are a bit intimidating, though that may have more to do with the fact that Tooru rarely sees him smiling. The thing Tooru is most captivated by are his eyes, a brilliant jade that changes intensity depending on the boy’s emotions. Tooru finds he can determine how the boy is feeling just by looking at his eyes. He could stare into them forever. The thought that he may be falling in love with the boy for real enters his mind even though he tries to tell himself he shouldn’t. 

Though he is not unaware of the attention he garners from both male and female classmates, Tooru doesn’t date anyone. His sole point of focus is volleyball. Most of his hours are spent in the gym, long after official practices have ended. Being in a relationship would just distract him from his ultimate goal of winning Nationals. There’s also the fact that Tooru’s heart belongs to the boy to take into consideration. Though he knows the likelihood of their ever meeting are slim, nothing Tooru does can prevent the flutter of excitement he feels every time a window appears. 

It happens one day after practice, while Tooru sits at his desk doing homework. A window appears near his doorway, and through it Tooru can see the boy enter his own room. He has clearly just gotten home from his own practice. He pauses, presumably to say something outside of Tooru’s field of vision. 

As Tooru watches, he slowly removes his shirt, revealing just how broad his shoulders have become, and rippling back muscles. Tooru is actually left breathless because none of this is apparent when he’s in uniform. Which in Tooru’s opinion, is a crime. And then he turns around and Tooru thinks he might actually die. There are the beginnings of a well toned abdomen and then there are those arms. Oh, those arms. Well, let’s just say Tooru has spent many nights thinking about those arms, how pronounced the biceps are and wondering what it would like to be held in their embrace. 

First and second year, Tooru and his team make it to Nationals, and though he should be focused solely on volleyball, he keeps his eyes peeled for the boy’s team, he knows what the uniform looks like now after all. When there is no sign of the now familiar uniform either year, Tooru’s heart sinks. The first year, his team is knocked out early, but they make it all the way to semifinals his second year. The pain of coming so close and falling just short is one that Tooru doesn’t forget for a long time. 

Knowing that he only has one more shot at winning, Tooru pushes himself further than he should that final year. Long nights spent at the gym, only heading home when his legs refuse to allow him to stand any longer, head dizzy. Feverishly working to make himself that much better. He needs to be better, he tells himself, this is his last chance. Whether he is more concerned that this is his last shot at winning Nationals or possibly for finally meeting the boy, he isn’t sure.

He doesn’t realize until it’s too late, the instability that’s begun to slowly pile up like grains of sand at the bottom of an hourglass. He notices some trouble with his range of motion, some catching of his shoulder, but brushes it off as his arm being overworked. He can rest it after Nationals, he thinks. And for a time, everything is fine. Until he goes to serve and his arm refuses ro raise past shoulder height. It only takes a few seconds. Tooru strains his body, struggling to make his arm move further. A searing pain tears through his shoulder, white light exploding in front of his eyes as he crumples to the floor. 

A torn rotator cuff sidelines him halfway through the season, and he watches not only as his team fails to make Nationals for the first time in his high school career, but also as the boy’s team finally makes an appearance. This is the first time Tooru experiences anything that can be considered close to heartbreak. Again, he doesn’t forget the pain for a long time. “ _I should have been there to meet you on the court_ ”, Tooru thinks. 

Tooru enters university still optimistic that maybe, just maybe, he and the boy will end up in the same place. Though he knows the chances are small, Tooru’s heart continues to whisper that dreaded word with every beat. Maybe. Even more so than high school, is Tooru aware of the attention he draws from many of his fellow students, lingering gazes upon introducing himself and as he walks away. Every time someone approaches him, asking him out, Tooru politely declines. This earns him the reputation of being cold, but he doesn’t mind. It is not their opinion which matters to Tooru, but that of the boy. Despite the words whispered behind his back, Tooru saves himself. 

Tooru goes through his entire university career without ever experiencing a one night stand or tempestuous hookups. Instead, Tooru spends all nighters together with the other boy, watching as he nibbles on his pen furiously, focusing on his notes. Watches the way his forehead crinkles and his nose scrunches whenever he gets lost in thought. Watches the way he frowns when he goes to check an answer only to find out he’s gotten it wrong. 

When he smiles though, Tooru’s heart melts. Because his entire face is transformed, coming fully alive, lighting up from within. His eyes become absolutely dazzling, crinkling at the corners before they scrunch completely shut. The smile starts as a small thing, tugging just at the corners of his mouth, until he spreads across his entire face. It’s slightly crooked, Tooru notices, but that makes it all the more endearing. 

By his third year, Tooru has already started to garner attention, he has been scouted by a handful of teams in the area as well as internationally. He remains diligently focused on his studies the entire time, but in his heart, he knows that he plans to play professionally. He is a force to be reckoned with, and will be for years to come.

At least that’s what Tooru believes. Ever since his injury in high school, he has been doing everything right, always making sure to stretch properly, going out of his way to find physical therapy exercises to strengthen not only his shoulder, but also his knees, his ankles. He won’t find himself sidelined again. He can’t. 

Something feels off though, and he can’t quite put his finger on what. Until he begins to have trouble rotating his arm the way he wants, no, the way he needs it to. Serving becomes more and more painful, until eventually, he can barely lift his arm at all. 

His stomach fills with cold dread as he sits in a plastic chair in the waiting room at an orthopedist’s office. He listens numbly as the words “unfixable” and “tendon transfer” get thrown around. At the age of only twenty years old, Tooru’s life as he knows it is over. He leaves the orthopedist’s office unable to feel anything at all, returning to his apartment to curl up on the couch. 

The loss of volleyball leaves a hole in his heart, but over time, Tooru heals. He gains a little consolation from knowing that the other boy has also abandoned volleyball, though he was lucky enough to do so on his own accord. 

Without volleyball, Tooru invests himself fully in his studies, and his future, though not what he expected, is bright. He graduates university as the top student in his major, then continues on to graduate school. He moves to another city when he accepts a position as a professor of botany at a university. Tooru settles into the beginning stages of his life as an adult without ever having gone on a date or being in a relationship. And still, Tooru’s heart aches. He goes a long time without seeing any windows or signs of the boy, and Tooru almost forgets that he exists. Almost.

★★★★★

Saturday morning, and Tooru is going over his most recent grant proposal, dozens of papers spread across the table in front of him. Tapping his fingers against the surface, he scratches out a line he has written. “What are you even talking about here? They’re never going to give you money with this garbage.” 

Pinching his nose, he closes his eyes, letting out a low sigh of frustration. There is a dull throbbing between his eyes, the beginnings of a tension headache. Counting to ten, he opens his eyes, and nearly falls over in shock. 

Hovering just to his left, there is a window. Tooru’s heart skips a beat and then begins to beat frantically in his chest as he watches the boy, no longer a boy, a man now, walking down a street Tooru knows well. A street not too far from where he lives. 

Body coursing with adrenaline, Tooru hurtles down the steps of his apartment. _Finally._ He is finally going to meet the person he has been searching for his entire life. After so many years. His heart continues to soar, and Tooru feels as though he is on top of the world. 

Feet pounding the pavement, he runs so fast his lungs are burning. Paying no heed to his surroundings, only thinking of the boy, he bumps into more than one innocent bystander. When Tooru reaches the street, there are several people around, but none of them are the one he is looking for. Of course he missed him. Of fucking course. Tooru purses his lips and runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. 

There is a cafe Tooru has never entered in front of him, and he figures since he’s here, he may as well give it a shot, even though he rarely drinks tea, and has never managed to develop a taste for coffee. He bounces impatiently in the line, waiting to place his order, then heads to one of the back corners of the cafe, where he can be left alone to deal with his disappointment. He settles into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs, and is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even register his name being called. 

“Excuse me, I think this is yours.” 

A friendly sounding voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Tooru lifts his head, only to find himself looking into a very familiar pair of jade green eyes. His heart, which has already crashed, coming down rapidly from its adrenaline high, begins pounding in his chest again. He swallows, trying to calm himself down enough so that he is able to speak. “Thanks.” There is a brief pause and because he doesn’t want the man to leave, and feels like he should say something else, he offers his name. “Oikawa. Tooru.”

“Iwaizumi. Hajime.” 

Hajime smiles warmly, that lopsided smile Tooru is now so familiar with, making Tooru go weak in the knees. He can actually see the heavens open up, beams of golden light spilling out around Hajime. And when Hajime offers Tooru a hand, rough and weathered. Tooru feels like he may actually pass out. 

“I just moved here for a new job,” Hajime tells Tooru. 

It’s fate, finally bringing them together, after all this time, Tooru thinks, elated. “I’ve lived here a few years now,” Tooru responds, before leaning forward across the table, adding, “I could show you around if you like.” 

Hajime smiles again, and Tooru definitely swoons. “That would be great, we’d love that.” 

“We?” Tooru repeats, tilting his head as he stares at Hajime in confusion. Suddenly, Tooru finds himself teetering atop the edge of a mountain, balanced precariously on one foot. His brain screams at him to back away, and yet he is unable to move. 

“Yeah, me and my fiance. Keiko.” 

It is at this precise moment that a gorgeous, petite woman comes over and kisses Hajime on the neck. 

And just like that, a cold breeze whispers across his back, sending Tooru plummeting from where he stands. Unable to slow its momentum at all, his heart continues to plummet, crashing against the floor of his ribcage, still beating, but only just. A shadowy hand reaches out and picks up his broken yet still beating heart, squeezing until it turns to dust. Tooru thinks he may be sick. 

Somehow, he manages to force his face into a semblance of a smile, swallowing thickly, as to his surprise, he finds himself saying, “Of course,” struggling to get himself to stand on trembling legs. 

Tooru maintains his forced smile throughout the day as he shows Hajime and Keiko around the neighborhood. He does his best to walk slightly ahead of them, but apparently the fates aren’t done torturing him just yet, because every time he turns around, he catches Hajime kissing Keiko on the cheek, or laughing as he brushes falling flower petals from her hair, Keiko blushing as he does so. 

He shows them around the neighborhood, the winding walkways along the river, bordered by parks, the tiny library Tooru frequents when not on campus and he’s tired of being in his apartment. He shows them the stores that have the best prices when it comes to groceries and points out a few restaurants he’s heard rave reviews about but never gone to. 

The entire day, it feels as though someone is slowly driving an iron stake through his heart, or what’s left of it anyways. It is not until the sun begins to set that Tooru realizes with horror, that he has basically been giving them ideas for where to go on dates all day. 

It is obvious that they are in love with each other, Hajime and Keiko. Tooru wishes he could bring himself to find something to hate about Keiko, but he can’t. She is soft spoken and pleasant to be around. As far as Tooru can tell, there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. Which is all the more reason he feels like a terrible person for wishing it were his hand Hajime is holding instead of hers. 

They exchange numbers before parting ways, Hajime mentioning hopefully that they should hang out again soon. Tooru breathes a sigh of relief when they head in the opposite direction from his apartment. He walks home slowly, weighed down by his heavy heart and wondering what he did to make the universe hate him so much.

When he reaches his apartment, he toes off his shoes and tosses his keys on the kitchen counter. Legs trembling, he hurries to the bathroom and at last empties the contents of his stomach, something he luckily managed to avoid doing in the presence of Hajime and Keiko. 

He finds he has lost all strength to stand, and so, undignified though it may be, he crawls his way to his bedroom. He curls up in his futon and tries to will himself not to cry as he pulls the covers tight around himself. He fails. He doesn’t move for two days. 

★★★★★

Tooru never thought he would be relieved for Monday morning to come, but he’s ready for the distractions caused by the worries of his students and the grant deadline looming over his head. Anything to get his mind off the fact that whatever fates or gods are out there have an unbelievably sick sense of humor. He pushes the aching of his heart into the back of his mind, focuses on getting through his lectures for the day and nothing else. Surprisingly, it works. 

Or at least until his lunch break, when Tooru makes the egregious error of leaving his office to walk across campus and enjoy the warmth of the sun. A good decision. He tilts his head upwards, enjoying the feeling of the sun’s rays hitting his face. The events of the weekend are beginning to feel like a dream, something brought about by stress and sleep deprivation. 

That is until he hears someone calling his name out from behind him. A voice that sounds more familiar than he would like it to. “Haven’t you made me suffer enough?” Tooru mutters, lengthening his strides. He almost manages to get away. 

“I thought that was you!” 

Tooru turns around and finds himself face to face with Hajime. Hajime is wearing dress pants, a button down shirt, and an actual tie. And he looks damn good wearing them. The fabric of the shirt is pulled tight across Hajime’s chest, perfectly outlining his shoulders. The sleeves of Hajime’s shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms. 

He has no right to look this good, because suddenly all Tooru can think about is Hajime pinning him against the tree behind him, hands pressed against his hips, fingers catching in his hair as Hajime’s tongue slides down his throat. 

No. Hajime is engaged, and besides that, they are colleagues now. He can’t be thinking about what he wishes Hajime would do to him. Could do to him, if they were together. He shakes his head violently, to rid himself of these devious thoughts. 

Tooru thinks he may have a stroke. His mouth drops open and his stomach twists violently. He is a good person, he tells himself. He has done nothing to deserve this. “What are you doing here?” he blurts out, feeling the burn of embarrassment on his face. Rude. Why were you just so rude to him? He shakes his head. Let’s try that again. “I mean, I’m surprised to see you here, are you visiting someone?” Tooru refuses to ask Hajime if he is visiting Keiko, even though Hajime is perfectly entitled to do so. He masks his shock at finding Hajime standing here, so close to him, with a grin. 

“No, I work here now,” Hajime replies, smiling warmly at him. “I started today. I had no idea this was where you work as well. You never did mention the other day. What a coincidence, eh?” 

Coincidence. More like the universe has decided that Tooru is not allowed to live his life in peace. He fights back the urge to laugh. Or maybe cry and tear out his hair. Certainly he fights the urge to disappear into a hole in the ground. Maintaining his false smile, Tooru nods his head. “It sure is. Who would have thought you would wind up working in the same place as me?” 

As though they were meant to be together (and they are, Tooru thinks every time his foot hits the pavement), they fall right into step with each other. Tooru is slightly taller, his legs longer and more slender than Hajime’s, and yet Hajime matches his steps, pace for pace. It feels nice, and Tooru wishes he could inch closer, reach out and just hold Hajime’s hand in his own. 

“Well this is me,” Tooru says as he opens the door to the science building. “I’ll see you around campus sometime, I guess.” 

“Oh this is the science building, is it? I’m actually in here as well.” Hajime lets out a laugh, running his hand through his hair. 

Gulping, Tooru tries not to stare. Hajime can’t be in his department, because he would have heard about a new professor joining them. He should have heard anyways, given how close quarters are in the building, but he has heard nothing. Please, let Hajime be anything other than a botanist. 

Blessedly, someone out there deigns to allow Tooru this at least. As it turns out, Hajime is a geologist. Tooru experiences a small level of relief as they prepare to part ways, the two departments aren’t on the same floor. He has to go and put his foot in his mouth though, asking Hajime if he needs any help getting his office organized. 

“That would be wonderful,” Hajime replies, breaking out in an apologetic smile. “I’m terrible at that sort of thing. Keiko has been the one organizing the apartment.” 

The blush on Hajime’s face when he mentions his fiance’s name does not escape Tooru’s notice. “I finish with my lectures at 2:00, but then I have office hours until 4:00. Will that work?” Tooru asks, biting at his lip and desperately wishing for Hajime to tell him no. 

“Office hours,” Hajime muses. “I guess I’ll have to figure those out sometime here soon. I finish with lectures at 3:00 today, so that should be perfect. I’ll try to start making the place presentable before you arrive then.” He gives Tooru a small wave and then disappears down the hall, Tooru’s gaze lingering on his back as he walks. 

Eying his phone at the end of the day, Tooru’s eyes continuously flit towards his open door, waiting for one of his students to come in with some form of major crisis, anything so that he can cancel on Hajime. He stares at the plants strategically placed around his office, as if any of them are capable of helping him with this predicament. He throws a mug across the room when no crisis appears, ceramic shattering against the wall. When he slices his palm open on one of the slivers, he figures he deserves it, the mug never did anything to hurt anybody. It was merely an innocent bystander. 

Wrapping a handkerchief around the cut, Tooru watches as blood seeps through the fabric. “Try not to throw any wild parties while I’m gone,” Tooru tells his plants. Snatching his briefcase from its spot on a chair by the door, Tooru flips off the lights and locks the door behind him. His heart beats dully in his chest as he climbs down the flights of stairs to where the geology department is. He nods at several other professors as he walks down the hall, stopping before an office with an open door. He knocks against the doorframe with his good hand. 

Hajime’s head pops up from behind a desk. “You made it! I thought maybe you had forgotten.”

“Had a bit of a mishap.” Tooru holds up the hand wrapped in the bloodstained handkerchief. 

Immediately, Hajime’s eyebrows knit together in concern, lips pulling into a frown. “Do you need to get that looked at? I can manage by myself. I think.”

“It’s pretty much stopped bleeding by now, don’t worry about it.” Tooru sets his briefcase down amidst the chaos.

“We should change the wrapping at least then, get you something fresh.” 

“No, really, you don’t have to,” Tooru protests, but Hajime is already digging through his boxes, triumphantly emerging with a roll of gauze. 

“Wouldn’t want that to get infected,” Hajime replies, gingerly unwrapping the handkerchief.

The wound is still bleeding, but just barely. The edges are puckered up, red and raw. Tooru hisses as Hajime slathers antiseptic onto the exposed flesh. 

“Looks pretty nasty, but I think you’ll live,” he tells Tooru as he takes Tooru’s hand in his, wrapping it with gauze. Tooru’s skin tingles where Hajime’s brushes against his and his heart feels as though it will burst from his chest. “All finished,” he says, producing a handkerchief of his own and wrapping it around the gauze.

“And what do I get for being such a good patient?” Tooru asks, batting his eyelashes at Hajime before he even realizes he is doing it. 

For his part, Hajime doesn’t seem to realize that Tooru has just dropped a line on him, or he chooses to ignore him. Tooru is inclined to believe it is the former, rather than the latter. “Sorry, it’s such a disarray.” Hajime gestures at the various boxes strewn about the room. 

“Ah, you get that when you have to share an office space,” Tooru states, arching an eyebrow. “The bane of my existence for my first few years here. Stick around long enough, and maybe someday you too, will move up to having your own personal office. We’ll make do with what we have though.”  
  
“You have your own office? But you’re so young!” Hajime’s eyebrows shoot up, his mouth drops open in awe.

“Youngest tenured professor in the sciences.” Tooru shrugs, waving a hand dismissively while failing to prevent a grin from spreading across his face. “It will be kind of nice having someone my own age around to talk to. Gets kind of boring having to hear about things like the stock market and second mortgages.” He quickly turns away from Hajime, returning his attention to the boxes. “Now then, where do we start?” 

Any illusions Tooru has about this being a one day project quickly disappear. Every single one of Hajime’s boxes is crammed until it is fit to burst, and the contents all appear to have been thrown in haphazardly. Tooru’s office and table at home may be covered in all sorts of plant life, papers, and scientific articles, but at least his chaos is organized. 

Heaving a sigh, Tooru plops down onto the floor of Hajime’s office, and begins rifling through the contents of one of the boxes. He needs to get some sort of system going before he can even turn his attention to actually organizing the office. Hajime settles himself onto the floor alongside Tooru. 

A few hours pass, with the two exchanging occasional banter. Hajime explains the contents of a box while Tooru listens. Hajime’s phone rings and he answers, Tooru knows before he hangs up that it is Keiko on the line. 

“I think I’m going to have to call it a night. We’ll continue tomorrow?” he asks hopefully. And then, “Do you want to come over for dinner, it’s a bit late, and you’re more than welcome.” 

“ _Are you the one inviting me, or is it Keiko?”_ Tooru wants to ask, but instead he bites his tongue, politely declining the offer. “I’ll just pick up some takeout on the way home. See you tomorrow.” 

He can tell Hajime is getting ready to insist he come to dinner, so he hurries off before he can even hear him ask again. 

It is Monday night. He has work in the morning. Tooru knows this, and yet he decides that because he is an adult he is allowed to get drunk on a work night. He states this fact aloud to his plants, which he can feel judging him. He very rarely drinks, let alone enough to get him drunk. A glass of wine on Friday and Saturday night is pretty much his limit. But he figures after being forced to spend an entire day having Hajime shoved in his face and constantly being reminded that he can’t have him, no matter how much his heart aches for him, he deserves this. Consequences be damned. 

“I’m an adult,” he slurs, staring blearily down at his fourth, or is it his fifth, glass of wine. “I can do whatever I want. You don’t get to judge me,” he tells his plants.  
Morning greets him with aching muscles, a pounding headache, and nausea. Not to mention the fact that his throat feels as though he swallowed a rug. Technicalities, Tooru tells himself as he struggles to get dressed for the day and seriously contemplates not going in. If he feels like he has been run over by a street cleaner, then it will give him something to focus on other than the pain in his heart. 

Getting through his lectures is agonizing and a struggle, but somehow Tooru manages to survive. He sneaks into his office during the gaps in his schedule, shuts off the lights, and sets an alarm, laying his aching head against the wood of his desk. 

He is finally able to feel like something resembling a human by the time he finishes with his final lab session for the day. Because he is a good person, rather than going home to pass out until morning, he again heads downstairs to Hajime’s shared office space. The relief on Hajime’s face at Tooru’s appearance is immediately evident. 

“I thought you were going to bail on me, I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Some of us do actually have to teach,” Tooru teases. “And I’ve felt a bit off today, been sleeping it off during my breaks. Let’s get down to business.” Without waiting for Hajime to reply, he folds his legs beneath himself and begins working his way through a box. 

“You’re ill?” Hajime asks, eyes turning a deeper pine green as they cloud with worry. “You should go home and get some rest, I can handle this.”

“I’m feeling better now, I think the food I picked up last night just didn’t agree with me.” Tooru flashes Hajime a thumbs up and returns his attention to the box. 

It takes them the entire week, but by Friday, Tooru and Hajime have finally managed to organize Hajime’s half of the office into a decent working space. It may not be quite as nice as Tooru’s office, but then again, he may be biased. 

“We’ve done good here. You can repay me with your undying gratitude,” Tooru says as he leans against the doorframe, nodding in approval at the space. Books neatly organized by topic and size on the bookshelf behind Hajime’s desk, various rocks artistically placed on the shelves in front of them. As a finishing touch, Tooru places a small jade plant on Hajime’s desk, his own personal contribution. Has he spent the entire week fretting over what sort of plant to give Hajime? Yes, but that’s only because it needs to be perfect. Also, he has no idea how good Hajime is with plant life, so he wanted to give him something easy to care for. It’s not like he’s thought about how the leaves match the green of Hajime’s eyes or anything like that.

“How about dinner instead?” 

Tooru’s heart falters, he’s managed to skip out on every invitation this week, because if there is one thing he does not need, it is to see Hajime and Keiko being all domestic together. His mind scrambles as he tries to come up with an excuse. Shoulders sagging in defeat, he agrees, and Hajime breaks out into his heart shattering smile. 

Keiko smiles when she sees Tooru, before turning to give Hajime a kiss. She thanks him for helping Hajime, and apologizes with a laugh, for how hopeless her fiance is. Dinner is excellent. Hajime wasn’t lying when he told Tooru how good Keiko’s cooking is. It’s one of the best meals Tooru has had in a long time, and yet it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue as he swallows. 

Against his better judgment, Tooru stays late into the night, a dagger slowly sinking into his heart as he observes Hajime and Keiko holding hands, or Hajime pulling Keiko towards him for a kiss. He sits there in awkward silence and wonders why that can’t be him. When it finally gets to be too much, he takes his leave, stepping out into the cool night air. 

When he arrives back home, he allows tears he didn’t realize he has been holding in fall as he slides to the floor. Hugging his knees to his chest, he lets out a shuddering breath. He sits like that for a long time, trying to ignore the pain in his heart and wondering what he did to deserve it. 

★★★★★

As time passes, Tooru begins to spend more and more time with Hajime, both while at work and outside of it. Being two of the youngest professors in the science department has something to do with it, Tooru tells himself. It has nothing to do with the fact that despite his best efforts, he finds himself falling in love with Hajime. It also doesn’t fail to escape Tooru’s notice that since he has met Hajime, not a single window has appeared. Which is all the better, because if Tooru had to witness Hajime being all domestically in love with Keiko any more than he already does, he would probably die. 

Quite often, Tooru finds himself being invited over to their apartment on Friday nights for dinner. His heart and brain seem to be in constant turmoil over whether or not he should actually go. Every single time he agrees, and he finds himself watching Hajime and Keiko, unable to do anything to prevent his heart from slowly shattering. 

Tooru’s heart races when he catches sight of Hajime standing outside of his door, waiting for him to finish with his lecture so that they may eat lunch together. For weeks, Tooru attempts to shrug Hajime off, claiming he is too busy prepping lectures or working on grant proposals. Hajime is apparently nothing, if not persistent, as he continues to hound Tooru despite Tooru’s best efforts to deter him. 

“You can’t survive off old ink fumes for sustenance,” Hajime states, dropping a bento atop Tooru’s desk. Tooru has told him every day this week that he has forgotten to bring lunch. This isn’t a lie, he actually has, Tooru has a bad habit of becoming single-mindedly focused and often forgets that he needs to do things like actually consume food or sleep in order to survive. 

“Ah, but see that’s where you’re wrong,” Tooru retorts, grinning up at Hajime. “I’ve been working on learning how to photosynthesize, which means I will be able to eliminate things like the need to eat. Maybe I can cut sleep out somewhere too, such a waste of time. Just imagine how much faster I would be able to finish writing this thing if I didn’t have to sleep,” he says, gesturing at the notes for his grant proposal. 

Hajime’s eyes travel to the dark circles under Tooru’s eyes, now so prominent that he is unable to fully hide them, even with top of the line concealer. “Have you not been sleeping?” 

Sighing, Tooru runs a hand through his hair. “I have a lot of papers to grade right now, you know how it is. I’ve also run into a snag with my research, so I’ve been spending longer nights in the lab.” What Tooru doesn’t add is that he is unable to sleep because he lays awake at night, unwilling to close his eyes, because when he does, he sees Hajime’s face. He lays there, ignoring how cold the other half of his futon is, wishing more than anything that Hajime were lying there next to him. 

Tooru curses himself as Hajime’s eyes land on the pillow and blanket on the floor by his desk, mouth opening in a silent epiphany. “Have you been sleeping in your office?”

“No, of course not, don’t be silly.” 

Hajime sighs. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks, eyes full of such concern that Tooru feels guilty for making Hajime look at him like that, heart squeezing painfully in his chest. “You’re going to go home tonight, and you’re going to sleep. Properly. If I have to carry you out of here myself I will.” 

Hajime leaves Tooru to his work, and his words repeat over and over in Tooru’s mind. There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be. There is a soft knocking on his door and Tooru’s head snaps up to find Hajime hovering in his doorway.

“Time’s up.” 

“I’m getting ready to leave. I just have to finish this first. You don’t have to check up on me, I’ll be sure I go home at a reasonable hour, _mom_.” Tooru is unable to prevent himself from rolling his eyes and pouting like a petulant child. 

Hajime perches himself atop Tooru’s desk in response. “You have five minutes,” he says. 

Lowering his head back to the paper he is grading, Tooru pushes the rising jealousy he is feeling towards his desk, of all things, to the back of his mind. He is nearly done when Hajime tugs his pen out of his hands. 

“I was nearly finished with that!” Tooru exclaims, grasping for the pen. 

“And I gave you an extra five minutes. Time to go home.”

They glare at each other in silence, Tooru crossing his arms and glaring at Hajime through narrowed eyes. When he makes no effort to leave his chair, Hajime sighs and picks Tooru up, literally throwing him over his shoulder. “I did warn you,” Hajime tells him as an arm tightens around Tooru’s torso, ignoring Tooru’s squawks of protest. 

Luckily it is late and none of the other faculty, or worse students are around. If they were, Tooru would probably die of embarrassment. He can already feel his face turning red as Hajime walks, Tooru’s body swaying with the motion of his. He has to admit though, that his view isn’t a bad one, as he has been basically granted permission to stare at Hajime’s ass for free. And what a nice ass it is. He can’t be blamed for noticing, Hajime put him into this position. Literally. 

Hajime finally sets Tooru down once they are outside the building, though he does insist on walking Tooru home. He lingers outside Tooru’s door for so long that Tooru wonders whether he is supposed to invite him in. He leans his face towards Tooru’s, silence filling the space between the two of them. “Get some sleep,” he says, flicking Tooru square between the eyes just as Tooru begins to lean forward, thinking Hajime plans to kiss him. Tooru nods, and closes the door behind himself, placing a trembling hand against his cheek. Idiot. Hajime is practically married. 

Tooru’s office becomes their designated space during lunch hour. Originally, they gather in Hajime’s office, but they are swiftly kicked out by Hajime’s office mate, who is tired of having to listen to them giggling at each other as they recount events that happened over the weekend. Hajime sits atop Tooru’s desk, laughing as Tooru tells him how he was asked for id when he went to the movies.  
  
“I don’t look that young, do I?” 

“Must be the hair,” Hajime teases, twirling a lock of Tooru’s hair between his fingers.

“What exactly is wrong with my hair?” Tooru glares, his tone defensive. He is prepared to knock Hajime off his desk if he has to. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Hajime shrugs. “It just makes you look younger than you are.”

“Forgive me if I unlike certain other individuals in this room have managed to maintain all my youthful charm,” Tooru retorts, shoving at Hajime, sending them both into peals of laughter. 

As the end of term approaches, Hajime begins to come over to Tooru’s apartment when they leave work. They sit underneath the kotatsu, exams and term papers spread out before them, shaking their heads as they circle statements where a student has gone completely off topic. Occasionally, Tooru will snatch papers out of Hajime’s hand because he wants to read them and also because it irritates Hajime. He more or less understands geology, but it amuses him to no end when Hajime rifles through his papers, forehead scrunching as he tries to make sense of various plant diagrams. 

“It’s okay, after all, plants are more complicated than rocks,” Tooru says as he reaches out and pats Hajime on the arm, dodging as Hajime attempts to punch him on the shoulder. 

They spend long nights together going over grant proposals, picking each other’s brains. Empty bottles of beer litter the floor as they grow progressively more tipsy, bemoaning the fact that grant proposals can’t write themselves. 

“Why can’t you do this for me?” Tooru asks a potted fern sitting in the far corner. “This is about you, you know.” 

Hajime laughs, the sound ringing through the apartment, before he slumps forward, head resting against the table. Much as Tooru wishes he could allow Hajime to sleep it off here, he knows he can’t. The seeds of guilt have already begun to creep into his stomach, the more time he spends with Hajime outside of work, the guiltier he feels, like he is stealing Hajime away from his fiance. Hajime belongs with someone else, not him, Tooru has to constantly remind himself. 

“Hajime, you have to wake up.” Tooru reaches out, patting Hajime on the cheek, watching as Hajime’s eyes flutter open. 

“Happened?”

“You fell asleep, you need to get home, Keiko’s waiting for you.” The statement sends another pang of guilt through Tooru’s body. 

“Keiko, right,” Hajime mumbles, struggling to pull himself to his feet, gathering his papers and pulling on his coat. 

“Get home safe,” Tooru calls after him, from his spot on the floor. It is not until after the door shuts behind Hajime that Tooru buries his head in his hands. 

When Hajime learns that Tooru also used to play volleyball, he insists that they go to matches together, telling Tooru that Keiko really isn’t a fan of sports. Tooru hasn’t been able to bring himself to watch a single match since he had his volleyball career torn away from him. He’s missed it more than he realized, as he finds the sound of shoes squeaking across the hardwood floor bringing a tear to his eye. 

They get into a teasing argument over whether setters or spikers are better, with Tooru claiming he’ll put Hajime in his place. Which is how for the first time in seven years, Tooru finds himself on a volleyball court. He spins the ball in his hands, slowly, fear sinking in. 

“I haven’t played in years,” he whispers softly, more to the ball than to Hajime. 

Gently, Hajime pries the ball out of Tooru’s hands. “What happened exactly?” 

Taking a deep breath, Tooru lifts his eyes from the floor. Hajime has asked him this question many times, and he’s always danced around the issue. “Rotator cuff injury.” He raises a finger. “First my final year of high school. I was so focused on getting to Nationals and finally winning I didn’t realize until it was too late. Season was cut short, and out of all three years I was there, that was the only year my school failed to even qualify.” 

Hajime opens his mouth to speak, but Tooru holds up another finger, stopping him. “Third year of university. I thought I was going professional. Leaving Japan even. But they said it wasn’t fixable, even though I’d done everything right that time, I took such care to make sure what happened in high school didn’t happen again, and it wasn’t enough. I haven’t touched a volleyball since.” 

His voice breaks, and he smiles sadly at Hajime, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He is completely taken aback when Hajime reaches out, pulling him close, so close that his face presses against Hajime’s chest. Hajime holds him like that until the tears stop, rubbing at his back, his shoulders. 

“Tooru, I’m sorry, we don’t have to.” 

Tooru pulls himself away, a hard glint in his eyes. He is curious to see whether his shoulder will hold up. More than that, he is curious to see what it will feel like to play with Hajime, after all that time spent watching him. “Nonsense. Prepare for me to wipe the floor with you, Iwa-chan."

“Iwa-chan, really? What are we, five?” Hajime, quips raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes really, and if you pay close attention, I’m going to show you exactly why setters are superior, even though they’re not as flashy as spikers are.” 

Taking a deep breath, Tooru closes his eyes and tosses the ball into the air, running forward a few steps, before springing into the air, moving his arm up to meet the ball as it falls. His palm connects and the ball flies across the court, slamming into the floor on the opposite side of the net. He turns to face Hajime, grinning broadly when he sees the look of shock on Hajime’s face.

“And that’s just my serve,” Tooru teases, winking at Hajime. 

Just as Tooru expects, his and Hajime’s playing styles fit together perfectly, as though they were made for each other. Which they are, considering Tooru has developed his tosses through watching Hajime play. They’re both rusty, and yet on every single toss, Hajime connects. Sprawled on the floor, chest heaving and covered in sweat, Tooru curses fate yet again, thinking “ _If only we had met sooner.”_

★★★★★

With a sinking feeling, Tooru realizes that the closer he grows to Hajime, he is truly falling in love with him. Not just the idea of him, like he has been for so many years, but actually falling in love with Hajime as a person. He’s a bit too serious, and he may be a bit oblivious, but he is warm and caring. He has a good heart and he worries about others. 

Hajime tells Tooru how easy it is to talk to him, how he somehow feels as though he has known Tooru his entire life. 

“ _But you have!”_ Tooru wants to scream at him, the words dying on his lips. 

It gets to the point that whenever Tooru is around Hajime, all he can think about is how he should be the one Hajime is marrying, not Keiko. Every time he thinks this, he can feel another piece of his heart crumbling away. He is disgusted with himself, and by his thoughts. Hajime is probably the best friend he has ever had, and all Tooru can think about is himself. 

Being around Hajime physically pains Tooru, his heart aches so much that he feels as though he will die. He decides to do what is right for both of them. He can’t hang out with Hajime any more, it isn’t right. He is practically a married man. 

So without saying a word to Hajime, Tooru begins to distance himself, in a sorry attempt to heal his heart and to make up for what he has done. When Hajime stops by Tooru’s office during their lunch hour, Tooru pretends to be absorbed in paperwork, ignoring Hajime’s presence in his doorway. The first few days, he acknowledges Hajime’s presence, looking up and mouthing “sorry”, but eventually he decides that ignoring Hajime completely is better. 

Texts and phone calls go unanswered, a fairly easy task. Avoiding someone you work with turns out to be far tougher than Tooru anticipates. Every time he catches sight of Hajime, walking down the hall, his heart panics and he throws himself into an open classroom or broom closet. 

Hajime continues to come by Tooru’s office when Tooru’s classes are done for the day, and for his part, Tooru tries to either not be there, or like a coward, he locks the door and turns off the lights, waiting for Hajime’s shadow to disappear, reminding himself it’s for the best. 

Sometimes, as he is wrapping up lecture, Tooru catches sight of Hajime hanging around outside of the room, clearly waiting for him to finish. To the dismay of his students, Tooru will draw out the lesson, carrying on past his time limit while he waits for Hajime to leave. He grabs random students before they leave, holding them back to discuss things like exam preparations and projects, eyes trained on the doorway until he watches Hajime disappear, paying no mind to his heart telling him he should go after him. 

Eventually, Hajime stops coming around looking for Tooru. If Tooru thought that distancing himself from Hajime would ease his suffering, he was mistaken. Cutting Hajime out of his life does nothing to lessen his pain, all Tooru earns from the distance is a greater hole in his heart and a deeper sadness. 

As though determined to mock him, the windows begin to appear again. Every time he sees one, Tooru can feel the hand holding what remains of his heart tighten its grip, causing another piece to crumble away. The windows show Tooru Hajime and Keiko, taunting him with the life he should have.

Hajime looks truly happy and in love, which he deserves. Being reminded of how happy Hajime is without Tooru makes him want to scream and tear his hair out. He tries to remind himself that Hajime is better off without him. 

Gradually, Tooru forgets what it feels like to be happy. Late one Saturday night, he is startled out of his moping by knocking on his door. Nobody should be visiting him and so Tooru ignores it, at least until the knocking grows louder and more insistent. 

With a sigh, Tooru drags himself across the apartment, only to be confronted by one very angry Hajime Iwaizumi. 

“Tooru, what the hell?” Hajime snaps at him. “What’s wrong with you? Where have you been? Why are you avoiding me?” Questions assault him one after the other. Hajime’s nostrils flare, and Tooru notices his hands, bunched into fists, shaking at his side. “We’ve been worried sick about you!”

Ah. There it is. We’ve been worried. Not I. We. 

Tooru runs a hand through his hair, gathering the strength to say what it is he’s about to say. He locks his eyes with Hajime’s, squaring his shoulders. “Hajime, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to hang out with you anymore.” 

The use of his actual name causes Hajime to flinch, he’s grown so used to Tooru calling him Iwa-chan. “Oh? And why now? After all this time?” 

Fighting the urge to lower his eyes, to slam the door in Hajime’s face, Tooru swallows thickly. He can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Because Hajime, I’m in love with you.”

Hajime blinks, and in the silence that follows, Tooru wishes for him to say something, to say anything, but all he says is “Oh,” before he turns and walks away. 

And with that one little word, Tooru can feel the rest of his heart break. When Hajime does not return, Tooru sinks to the floor and he makes no effort to fight the tears. 

Unable to find the energy to move, Tooru calls out sick the entire next week, and spends the entire time on his couch, staring at the wall. Because the universe isn’t fully satisfied that Tooru has suffered enough, he continues to see windows through which he can see Hajime and Keiko eating dinner together, laughing as they walk at night under the stars, finalizing their wedding preparations. “Leave me alone,” Tooru mumbles into the fabric of the couch cushion. 

After the week is over, Tooru forces himself to get up. He has allowed himself to be sad long enough, it’s time to move on. The person he sees in the mirror is barely recognizable, and Tooru finds that he really doesn’t care. His cheeks are gaunt, eyes sunken and hollow. His hair dangles limp in front of his face. His shirt hangs loose on him, his sweats slipping below bony hips. He didn’t realize just how much weight he’s lost the last few months. Nothing like pining after someone you can’t have to provide you with the diet you didn’t ask for, he thinks bitterly. 

He turns the water up as hot as it will allow, watching as it fills the tub. His skin turns pink as soon as he sinks into the water, but he doesn’t mind the burn. He sits in the bath until the water grows cold, then watches as it swirls down the drain. Now that he is clean, he feels better, though only marginally. 

At work, he and Hajime continue to avoid each other, occasionally nodding awkwardly if they happen to pass in the hall. Neither one of them makes the effort to stop by the other’s office. Hajime’s silence speaks volumes, affirmation that Tooru never had any hope of Hajime reciprocating his feelings. He begins to stay late at work again, spending long nights in the office, passing out at his desk. It’s not an ideal lifestyle, but it’s a welcome one. Work provides Tooru with a distraction from his feelings, so long as he doesn’t catch sight of Hajime. 

The closer it draws to Hajime and Keiko’s wedding date, Tooru can feel himself beginning to grow depressed again. Seconds tick away and with every breath he takes, another dagger pierces his heart. 

About a week before the wedding, Tooru lays on his couch, face plastered against the cushions. He is trying to think of anything other than Hajime. He is considering getting better acquainted with a bottle of tequila when there is a knock on his door. He eyes the bottle a few seconds longer before dragging himself upright. 

Slowly, Tooru pads over to the door. His mouth drops open and he rubs at his eyes. Hajime is once again standing on his doorstep. Only this time, Hajime looks the way Tooru feels, his face haggard and his hands restless. 

“You look like shit,” Hajime starts, causing Tooru to bristle, moving to slam the door in Hajime’s face. 

Tooru opens his mouth to give Hajime a piece of his mind when Hajime presses a finger to his lips. 

“Tooru, you look like shit right now, but here’s the thing.” Anticipation hangs in the air, and Tooru tries to tell his heart to calm down, it has only finally begun to heal. Hajime swallows. “The thing is, Tooru, I think I’m in love with you too.” Silence hovers again and Hajime’s eyes search Tooru’s waiting for a response. 

Only Tooru can’t speak. His mouth drops open, stunned, and he is unable to form words. Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Hajime ask if he can come in, and all Tooru can do is nod. 

They sit side by side on the couch, not speaking. Hajime holds Tooru’s hand, running his thumb across the back of it. Tooru shivers slightly at the gentle touch. 

“Tooru, look at me.” 

Hajime’s voice is soft, pleading even, but Tooru can’t bring himself to look. Instead, he turns his head further away. Hajime places a hand against the side of Tooru’s head, turning it back to face his. His hand is shaking, Tooru notices. Tooru’s eyes grow wide, waiting for Hajime to speak. His body tenses, preparing to run, even though this is his home. Hajime runs his thumb across Tooru’s cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Tooru, I’m not getting married,” Hajime says at last. 

“You’re not?” 

“How can I, when I’m in love with you?” Tooru’s heart flutters weakly in his chest when he hears those words again, breath catching in his throat. “We called it off. A week ago. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to come and see you since then.” 

They sit there in silence, gazing at each other until Hajime says, “I’m going to kiss you now okay?” 

Gently, as though Tooru is made of glass and he is afraid of breaking him, Hajime cups Tooru’s face in his hands. Tooru’s cheeks flush pink as he waits. Slowly, Hajime brings his lips to meet Tooru’s.

That first kiss is softer than Tooru has been expecting, incredibly sweet but unsure at the same time. When Hajime is sure Tooru isn’t going to bolt, he kisses him again, more eagerly this time, and Tooru kisses back, all those years of longing welling up inside him until they spill out, flowing from his lips to Hajime’s. Hajime’s hand flies up, fingers tangling in Tooru’s hair and Tooru melts against him, letting out a whimper of pleasure. 

They don’t talk much the rest of the night, instead basking in each other’s presence, kissing hastily when the urge becomes too strong. At some point, Hajime reaches into his pocket, pulling out a large chunk of rose quartz, placing it in front of Tooru. 

“What’s this for?” Tooru asks, staring down at the stone quizzically. 

“Rose quartz signifies unconditional love,” Hajime states the tips of his ears turning bright red. “It’s stupid I know.” He reaches out to take the stone back and Tooru swats his hand away, laughing. 

“You really thought this would work?” he asks. “It’s so incredibly nerdy, I love it.” He laughs again and presses a kiss on the tip of Hajime’s nose. They fall asleep, tangled together on the couch. 

From that night on, the windows disappear once more. 

★★★★★

Tooru and Hajime begin dating after that night, slowly easing their way into the relationship. Work returns to normal, Hajime stopping by the Tooru’s office during lunch hours. There is a slight difference now though, as Tooru will gesture at Hajime to lock the door behind him, lunch often forgotten in favor of heated makeout sessions. 

“You’re a terrible influence,” Tooru tells Hajime as he eyes the bruise forming on his neck, the mussed state of his hair. “People have expectations of me, you know.”

“It’s your own fault,” Hajime replies, dropping his voice and burying his head against Tooru’s neck again, “for looking as irresistible as you do. How do you expect me to control myself around you?” 

“You’re going to have to at least try, even though I know it’s hard. Lucky you, we have two floors separating us.” Tooru presses a kiss to Hajime’s lips then opens the door to his office. “Now go on, get out of here. I’ll see you later.” 

He shuts the door behind Hajime and stares at himself in the mirror, the disheveled hair and red lips and tries to make himself look as presentable as possible before his next class.

Hajime moves into Tooru’s apartment, and for the first time since he moved in, Tooru finds that it finally feels like a home. Tooru does his best to contain Hajime’s chaos, while maintaining some semblance of order to the place

In the mornings, he wakes up before Hajime, and lays there, smiling as he waits for Hajime to wake. “Morning,” Tooru tells him, as Hajime focuses on his face, breaking out into a sleepy grin. They kiss, and lay there staring at each other without speaking. Some mornings, it’s hard to leave. 

In a back corner of his brain, Tooru still feels as though this is all a dream, that he will wake up any moment and find his apartment empty, as it’s always been, Hajime will be gone. As they grade papers together in the evenings, sometimes Tooru will watch Hajime out of the corner of his eyes, and can’t help but think how lucky he is. 

“What are you looking at?” Hajime asks, when he catches Tooru looking at him.

“Nothing, just admiring you, thinking about how lucky I am,” Tooru replies. 

“I’m the lucky one,” Hajime tells him, leaning over, kissing Tooru over the pile of papers strewn before them. 

They fit perfectly together, falling in sync with each other, Hajime’s methodical rhythm balancing out Tooru’s upbeat, slightly frenzied one. They brush their teeth together in the mornings, cook their meals together at night. Okay, to be fair, Tooru does most of the cooking, but as Hajime points out, moral support is important too. 

When he feels as though Tooru is putting in too many hours at work, Hajime stops by Tooru’s office as he once did, so many months ago, and picks Tooru up as though he weighs nothing, signaling it is time for him to come home. The difference now is, Tooru has no reason to feel guilty or embarrassed. And maybe, sometimes he stays late on purpose because he enjoys the way it feels when Hajime throws him over his shoulder. 

The couch becomes prime cuddle territory, Hajime running his fingers through Tooru’s hair as Tooru leans against him, struggling to stay awake. Tooru’s fingers ghost along Hajime’s biceps, causing goosebumps to break out over the exposed skin. Every so often, Hajime will place a kiss against Tooru’s forehead, or Tooru to Hajime’s fingers. They fall asleep there often, limbs all intertwined, listening to the beating of each other’s hearts. 

When they are out hiking one afternoon, in the late fall, Hajime picks Tooru up and sits him atop a large boulder. Golden rays of late autumn sun filter through the canopy of leaves overhead, causing Tooru’s hair to shimmer with a coppery glow. Leaves float through the air around him and in Hajime’s eyes, Tooru has never looked more beautiful. There are tears in his eyes as he asks Tooru to marry him. Tooru is so overcome by emotion that it takes him a full five minutes before he is able to respond, a whispered “yes.”

They spend the following year preparing for the wedding, with Tooru growing increasingly nervous as the date approaches. How long? How long has he been waiting for this moment? Hajime is nothing but supportive throughout the entire process, pulling Tooru close and murmuring words of encouragement whenever he has a breakdown. 

Their wedding is in the winter, outside, surrounded by a blanket of freshly fallen snow. The snow sparkles like diamonds in the light of the sun. Light snow falls around them during the ceremony, catching on their hair and the tips of Tooru’s eyelashes. Tears freeze at the corners of Tooru’s eyes. After all this time, he finally understands the windows. They were there to guide him towards Hajime, the one he is meant to be with. 

“It was always supposed to be you,” Hajime whispers as he pulls Tooru in for their first kiss as husbands. Closing his eyes and kissing Hajime back, Tooru couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a different spin on soulmates.  
> I have no idea of this concept of windows and seeing your soulmate through them is an original thought, but I'm fairly certain it isn't. I have no idea where I ran across it before though. 
> 
> This is another thread I wrote about a month ago now, and even back then I thought that I wanted to turn it into an actual fic. I think I basically wrote this entire thing in somewhere between eight and ten hours. This is considerably more angsty than people are used to me writing, usually it's nothing but fluff. It all worked out for the two of them in the end though, can't bring myself to leave them unhappy. 
> 
> I can be found on twitter [stormysgambit](https://twitter.com/stormysgambit)


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